


To the Bone

by wirewrappedlily



Series: Satellite [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: James ruminates over his navel, M/M, SPECTRE Fix-It, don't ask: just read it, kind of?, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7671541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I could love you, if you'd let me. But, love, you gotta let me." - Satellite, by Sara Hartman</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Bone

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses. None.

The first time James Bond feels as though he's been pulled into orbit; that he's been given no choice about the way his life is moving, it's because he looks at his Quartermaster in the light of a thousand screens, having just come back from playing house, while the man in question orchestrates chaos and mayhem on a scale James could never hope to manage. Q looks implacable and impeccable in equal measure; his shirt crisp under his cardigan and the tweed jacket thrown over it belying the ruthless set of his mouth and the viper-fast and utterly deadly movement of his hands, his eyes, his unstoppable skill set. The light from the monitors paints him a pale that James thinks would befit Shakespeare's ghosts, and his hands never falter, not while his gaze is pulled in thirty directions all at once, or when his shoulders tense through a close call. 

James has never been present for it, of course. He never would have thought to be. The action, he had always thought, was not in front of the screens. He's proven irrevocably wrong, watching the Quartermaster work. The man moves like a ballerina while he plays war drums in ones and zeros, his hands so unspeakably graceful that James has to take a step back to take stock of himself. 

He had run away with Doctor Swann. He hadn't meant to come home. Why is he home?

 _"Fucking hell,"_ 003 laughs, her voice bright despite the bullets still ricocheting around her, _"someone get Q a bloody tea, I can practically hear his mug being empty."_

James moves through the throngs of minions who are all too busy to do that, and tell her so--taking up Q's mug himself and slipping through the minions to the breakroom near Q's office. He listens still, as 003 has a party in the midst of the bloodshed and terror, and James looks down at the mug in front of him, his head spinning slightly. 

He'd come back for one very simple reason, he realizes while trying to remember if he'd ever bothered to learn Q's preference for taking tea. He came back because of Q. Because, even when James unilaterally did not deserve it, Q had never once faltered. _He never does_ , Bond realizes, preparing the tea on autopilot now and taking his brain and its dangerous thoughts--its doubts--out of the equation. Q hadn't faltered when faced with treason; hadn't blinked at slipping Bond something he shouldn't have had to even make. Something James hadn't even thanked him for. He thinks about Blofeld, and the bomb strapped to Madeleine, and the pictures lining the hall; and realizes that Blofeld had been wrong, thinking that James would hurt the most for losing the women whom he'd loved. It would have hurt, to be sure; but it would not have stopped him. The only thing that would have done that was Q. "Double-oh seven?" A voice calls from the orchestration, "If you're quite done ruminating over your navel, I really would like to know my mug isn't being rigged for explosives." 

James can't help the surprised huff of a laugh, shaking his head as he finishes his mission. The chaos and the calm of the room is at a standstill, both; 003's vitals pulled up next to the video feed of her sliding down a series of glass walls; her skin screaming against the glass in a way that makes James wince, and the entire room perfectly still as she breathes harshly over the comm. Q is the only one who is looking away from the screen; and James knows with perfect clarity that it isn't because he's not paying just as much attention as everyone else--it's because he cannot push himself into his head right now, while he listens so intently for the end of an agent. James hands him the steaming mug, and Q nods his thanks, not meeting his eye before he turns back to his masterpiece. _"Well, children, I think I'm not staying in one of the world's tallest buildings anymore, no matter how good the breakfast buffet is."_ 003 mutters as she fires a honest-to-God grappling gun, swinging around the side of the Tuntex Sky Tower where her slidable surface has run out. 

"Don't discount that breakfast, Helena," James scolds lightly, "you know exactly how hard it is to find a good meal inside of the hotel."

_"James, lovely to hear your voice again, I must say. Why don't you drop by? We could have some fun taking down a cartel running out of Chai Yi."_

"A cartel in Chai Yi?" 

_"That's about the expression of disbelief I had, darling,"_ 003 laughs some more, _"Right on the Tropic of Cancer for me, as a special, British-winter treat."_

"If you two wouldn't mind, I do have some things to be getting on with." Q interrupts, "003, head North of your location and get on the train. You should reach it in time to snag a ride." 

" _Not_ how Q made me snag one," James emphasizes, ignoring the look Q gives him, "he seems to like you more than me, Helena." 

_"I actually come home most of the time, darling."_ Helena mutters, voice dropping low and breathy with her exertion. James must admit, watching her run on the CCTV footage--watching her pulse readouts and her breathing measures, James is caught in the higher math of it all coming together. _"Q, darling, could you facilitate some sort of a diversion for me to actually not get civilians shot?"_

"Already done, 003." Another minion reports. James knows the voice just barely, and Q grins at the woman it belongs to. 

_"Oh, my Veronica flower! Make me proud, my girl!"_ Helena laughs. 

Just as the words leave her mouth, the CCTV...flutters. Not in a mechanical way, either. "What in the world...?" James mutters, taking a step closer to the display as though clarification would come with a decrease in distance. 

_"Just how long did this many paper planes take you, and how did you get them here?"_ Helena asks, sounding vaguely amazed. 

"Originally, it was not going to be a cause of chaos..." The boffin named Veronica murmurs, and the sound of a paper plane being caught out of the air crackles over the comm, followed by a burst of laughter. "Best laid plans and all that..." 

"Twenty thousand paper airplanes with the exact same script, Bond: 'hide now'." Q informs him, looking unaccountably proud, "Which was my addition to Veronica's brilliance." 

Bond's brows go skyrocketing at the deviousness of it, and Q smirks slightly, even though his attentions haven't once strayed from the screens. "I love it." James breathed, laughing. 

"We'll have to think of a way for you, 007; you look positively gleeful." Q laughs, his fingers still just as graceful and unstoppable as they were before; and James realizes it isn't just 003 he was dancing for; it was every agent out in the field, smaller screens pulled up around the edges of 003's. "Helena, if you don't get a move on, you will be hopping the train as James did." 

Helena laughs over the comm, running through the panicking throngs. In Mali, James watches Q open 005 a door; in Singapore, he sees an electronic lock click open for 009, even while Helena runs through the streets of Kaoshiung. He looks up at the master of all this madness; and James feels like he's been missing something for far too long; like he's been led astray so many times that now, finding his way, he can't help but wonder at how dense he has been. James steps up behind Q on his platform of alchemical chaos; setting the mug down carefully, with one hand on Q's hip as if he needs the balance. He resists the urge to pull Q into his orbit, stops himself from bringing Q down into his arms. It's not the time for that: James has far too much to do before he can prove to Q that he belongs in James's hold. He just hopes that Q is smart enough--maybe stupid enough--to let him try.


End file.
